


Shining Light

by ChillieBean



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of Blood, Non-graphic injuries, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 13:13:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17264819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChillieBean/pseuds/ChillieBean
Summary: “How bad is it?” Jesse asks, sighing.“You have blood on your face, I think the wound is in your hairline.” Hanzo takes off Jesse's hat and places a hand under his chin, taking a good look at it. “It is not bad, it is not bleeding anymore.” He sits back, looks Jesse in the eye, just for a moment, and Jesse can see tears welling before Hanzo looks away. “I am sorry that my recklessness caused you to get injured,” he whispers.





	Shining Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Liquid_Lyrium](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liquid_Lyrium/gifts).



> This was for the Target Practice Secret Santa. Lyrium, I hope you enjoy <3

 

There are only a few things in life that Jesse hates. 

Disrespectful folks top that list. It’s all-encompassing, includes the likes of Talon and Deadlock and anyone who thinks they’re better than everyone else.

The cold. He would much rather be stinking hot and sweating than pile on layer after layer for warmth that never comes.

Getting hurt is a no-brainer. Who likes to get hurt? Unless it’s toeing the line between pleasure and pain in the bedroom, then he hates it.

People doting on him rounds out the list. He’s a grown-ass man, he can take care of himself. 

It is a shame, though, that right now, three of those things are happening and there’s nothing he can do about it but sit here and take it.

“How bad is it?” Jesse asks, sighing. He looks at the ripped remains of his jeans, then his leg. Not that he can see much in the near darkness, the only light is from the small flashlight in Hanzo’s mouth. 

Hanzo sits back, taking the flashlight. “It is not as bad as it looks. The bone has not broken skin, and I am certain it is just a fracture rather than a break.” He sits back and sighs, picking up his bag and looking through it again. “But absent Dr. Ziegler, there is not much I can do but bandage it and keep you still.”

“Good thing we found this cabin, then.”

Hanzo frowns and drops the bag to the floor with a huff. “It is a shame it is the middle of the night and if we want to survive this cold, I need to find firewood.”

“Surely there’s something we can use in here?” Jesse tries to look around, stopping the second he feels a sharp pain in his neck. “Okay, I hurt myself more than I thought.”

Hanzo smirks, just a little, and it eases Jesse's anger. “You jumped from a second story window to avoid gunfire, it is not surprising.”

“You jumped too.”

“I have been jumping from that height my entire life.”

“Didn’t seem that high.”

“It is deceptive,” Hanzo breathes, placing the flashlight in his mouth again to look at Jesse’s neck. Cold fingers press against his skin, and it takes all of Jesse’s willpower not to recoil. “I am no doctor," he says slowly around the flashlight, before pulling away, plucking it from his mouth, "but I do not think you have a spinal injury. It is perhaps whiplash.”

“Feels a little like it.”

“Best to keep as still as you can in any case,” Hanzo says. 

“Not that it really matters, we hobbled through the snow for the better part of an hour. If it was spinal I wouldn't have the use of my legs, or worse, I'd be dead.”

Hanzo hums, and Jesse catches the flicker of sadness in his eyes; Hanzo always hates it when Jesse talks about his own mortality. “Please be still,” Hanzo says softly, “there is nothing I can use to brace your neck here and I would like to err on the side of caution.”

“No worries, Han,” Jesse replies, knowing he can accommodate this simple request for Hanzo's sake. He knows, though, that if he were with anyone else, he'd be doing all he can to not seem so helpless. 

Hanzo stands and scans the cabin. Jesse follows the beam of light, there is no furniture, no furnishings of any descript, just a square room with an empty fireplace.

“This place is barren,” Jesse sighs. He wraps his serape around him tighter in a futile attempt to keep warm, the cold leaching to his bones.

“Not completely,” Hanzo says, and Jesse catches a glimpse of Hanzo’s grinning face as he walks off to the corner on his right. He risks a look and sees a pile of firewood with a hatchet embedded in of one the logs. There isn't much, it’ll only sustain them till morning at the most, but it is something. 

“Get it started,” he says, teeth starting to chatter. “It’s freezing.”

“You still require tending to.”

“And I’ll be here when you’re done. Heat and light first, then you can bandage me up.”

Hanzo approaches him, crouches down and gives him a kiss on the head, and Jesse melts under the contact. His hand settles on Jesse's hip, before sliding into his right pocket. 

“Don’t know about you, darlin’,” Jesse chuckles, “but I ain’t quite in the mood.”

“Shush,” Hanzo whispers, pressing another kiss to his head. Leaning back, Hanzo opens his hand, revealing both his lighter and cigar stub. “Relax. I will only be a moment.”

“Thanks, sweetness,” Jesse murmurs, picking up the cigar.

Hanzo cups his face and smiles, heading to the firewood. Jesse places his cigar in his mouth, for the time being, watching Hanzo break up a log into smaller pieces with the hatchet. He starts a fire, building on it with the kindling until it is large enough to take the logs without being smothered. 

“Okay,” Hanzo breathes, crouching down in front of Jesse, and for the first time since this ordeal, Jesse can see Hanzo’s face properly. His hair is messy, all out of place, he's got a scratch on his cheek but is otherwise  _ his  _ Hanzo _. _

“Aren't you a sight for sore eyes,” Jesse murmurs, smiling.

Hanzo smiles back, but Jesse can see in his eyes that he is forcing it. His attention is then drawn to the top of Jesse's head. 

“How bad is it?” Jesse asks, sighing.

“You have blood on your face, I think the wound is in your hairline.” Hanzo takes off Jesse's hat and places a hand under his chin, taking a good look at it. “It is not bad, it is not bleeding anymore.” He sits back, looks Jesse in the eye, just for a moment, and Jesse can see tears welling before Hanzo looks away. “I am sorry that my recklessness caused you to get injured,” he whispers.

“Hey,” Jesse says, reaching out to cup Hanzo’s face, prompting him to look at him. “It was either this, or a body full of bullets. You’re fine, really, don’t think anything of it. I’m not blaming you for my injuries.”

Hanzo smiles, turns his head and kisses Jesse’s palm. “I know how much you hate people tending to you—”

“It’s the worst. But I know.”

“I will do the bare minimum. And I promise not to check in with you every five minutes.”

“Sounds good, sweetness.”

“As long as you tell me if anything changes. It is possible you also have a mild concussion.”

“Don’t think I do, I know what’s happened, why we’re in middle-of-nowhere Norway. I’m in a shitton of pain, but I know there’s nothing you can do about that now.”

“You hide it well,” Hanzo murmurs, looking at Jesse’s leg. “I wish I could administer pain relief. I am sure Dr. Ziegler will have words about not carrying a first aid kit.”

“Oh, more than a few. Coloured with a couple of choice swear words…” Jesse chuckles. “It’s goin’ to be great.”

“I can in the meantime...” Hanzo holds up Jesse’s lighter and opens it.

Huffing a laugh, Jesse places the cigar in his mouth, puffing to ignite it. “This'll do just fine,” he says, exhaling and smiling. 

“Good. Because in order to bandage your leg, I am going to have to move it around. It will be painful.”

“I can take it.”

“The easiest way for me to secure it is to take the buckle off your chaps.”

“Easy now,” Jesse starts, looking at his chaps. “You can’t get between a man and his chaps.”

“I will purchase you another pair.”

Jesse groans, bidding them farewell. “A’ight,” he sighs, puffing on his cigar. Hanzo takes out his dagger and Jesse has to look away as he strips the buckle from the shin. 

“They honestly mean that much to you?”

“Had them a long, long time.”

“Were they sentimental?” Hanzo asks, cutting off the remnants of his destroyed jeans and turning it into a bandage, wrapping his leg.

“‘Bout as sentimental as an article of clothing can get. But no, no emotional attachment. They were old, my oldest pair, and were bound to be destroyed one day. Just didn’t think they’d be hacked to pieces.”

“I would not call my precise cuts ‘hacked to pieces’.”

“They’re in three pieces, ergo, hacked.”

Hanzo has himself a little chuckle as he wraps the buckle to the top of the bandage, before pulling away and sitting next to him. “How was that?”

“Fine,” Jesse breathes, then scoffs. “Didn’t feel a thing, honestly.”

“Distraction.”

Jesse hums as Hanzo picks up an offcut of his jeans, spitting into it before cleaning his face. “Well... This isn’t what I had in mind for this evening.”

“Me either.”

“Figured you’d be licking my neck, instead of just spitting into a cloth to wipe blood away.”

“A much better use of our time.”

“And reaching into my pocket to feel me up, instead of fishing out my lighter.”

“When we are back on base and you are fully healed, we can indulge.”

“Lookin’ forward to it,” Jesse breathes. He looks at the fireplace, now that he can feel the warmth coming off it, and starts to relax. His comm chimes, finally, and he checks it. He only sent out the emergency message an hour ago. “Orca will be here in two hours. Won’t have to wait till morning.”

“Hopefully Talon will not find us in that time.”

“There are a million places we can be, they won’t find us, not when it was snowing when we made our escape. It'll have covered our tracks by now.”

“True,” Hanzo says, pulling away. He looks at Jesse and smiles. “I am all done. I trust that was not torture.”

“Naw, not at all, sweetness. I might not like being doted on, but I don’t care when it’s you.”

Hanzo leans in, and Jesse pulls his cigar away and kisses him, quick and chaste and over faster than he would have liked. “It is a shame we have two hours to kill and we cannot have some fun.”

“You’re such a horndog,” Jesse chuckles, slowly draping his arm over Hanzo’s shoulders when he settles in close. 

Jesse knows that Hanzo was being strong, but he can see that Hanzo needs comforting, probably more than he needs it. He doesn’t say anything after that, neither does Hanzo, they just sit, enjoying each other’s company, and Jesse lets Hanzo work through this with gentle caresses. While Jesse doesn’t like people doting on him when he’s injured, Hanzo hates it when people bug him when he’s emotionally hurting.

And if there is one thing he knows about his partner, it is that he will be kicking himself for weeks after this.

Jesse places a hand on top of Hanzo’s, weaving their fingers together. Hanzo huffs a little laugh, wipes his face with his hand and looks up at Jesse, a small smile on his face. 

“Hey,” Jesse murmurs, squeezing him that little bit tighter. 

“I am sorry.”

“You’ve already apologised.”  

“I should not be here, feeling sorry for myself when I should be comforting you.”

“You’ve done enough. More than that. You’ve done what you can with how little we’ve got, and you’ve done a damn good job of it.”

“And we would not be here if we hadn’t jumped out of the window.”

“You’re right.” Jesse pauses, waiting until Hanzo looks up at him. “We’d still be in that warehouse. Lying on the floor, bleeding out. And let’s be real. I’m lucky the only thing I’ve got is a suspected fractured leg and whiplash from jumping from that height.”

“That’s true.”

“And I jumped willingly. You didn’t push me.”

Hanzo nods, smiling a little wider. “I will have to teach you how to cushion your falls.”

“Teach me them Shimada cat reflexes.”

When Hanzo looks up at him, Jesse sees a glimmer of cheekiness in his eyes, and Jesse knows he will be okay. “I knew your boots were more trouble than they were worth.”

Jesse gasps, overdramatically, placing a hand on his chest. “First my chaps, and now my boots?”

“If you are lucky, I will not pick on your  _ blanket _ .”

“You love my serapes. And the boots and chaps. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be together.”

“I do not love you for your aesthetic,” Hanzo says. 

“Oh?”

“You’re kind and gentle…” Hanzo smirks, “and roguishly handsome and fantastic in the bedroom…”

Jesse just looks at Hanzo, unable to string a thought together, and for the first time in his life he's sure, he is genuinely speechless. Maybe he sustained a bigger head injury than initially thought... 

“And you know exactly what to say and do to save me from the darkness of my mind.”

“I…” Jesse starts, blinking back tears. He takes a breath, giving himself a moment to think of something to say that isn't incoherent gibberish. “That's why we're a great team, cause what you said… That's why I love you.”

Hanzo's smile softens, and he squeezes Jesse's hand a little bit tighter. “I love you, too.” He gets up on his knees and leans in, and they share a kiss.

When Hanzo settles back down again, Jesse unwraps his serape, draping it over Hanzo's shoulders too. 

They might be in the middle of nowhere, Talon could bust in at any moment and he might be injured, but right now, Jesse knows his the luckiest guy alive. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/BeanChillie) Come say hi!


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